It’s so awesome when you realize that there are a whole lot of great bookmarked sites that for some reason (ahem, soul-crushing work schedule) you haven’t been reading lately, and then you get to go back and read through several pages of posts. I love doing that. I also have an unpleasant disposition and rarely socialize, can you tell?

Anyway, I was scanning through Shmitten Kitten the other day and came across this jewel of a post. It reminded me of something I wrote freshman year (I think), which I’d completely forgotten about until Graham found a few scribbled notes about it in an old book of mine. Back then, my friends and I managed to compile a list of, like, probably over 100 guys’ names, and then we assigned each of them a quality. Some were hilarious-but-predictable (Lesters are molesters” will never be not funny), and others were just hilarious (“Todds masturbate to pictures of their mothers,” why???). We compiled the list because we were too young to have jobs and didn’t drink yet, which tells you a lot about the potential of youth.

Some parts of our list were obviously made up, but other parts were borne of true prejudice for the names being listed. I don’t know why I hate some names and not others, and I know that I’ve been proven wrong before. But still, I have my issues, and some have held up, and I probably won’t be a nicer, more tolerant person in the future.

Some Names I Hate:

Jason – Every Jason I have ever known turned out to be a total asshole.

Tim – Even before I dated a Tim, I hated this name. It sounded so sissy. So effete. So not something you could ever yell out during sex, because it would immediately kill your girl boner. Remember, I hated the name before I dated a Tim, and this is one occasion where my name intuition was totally right.

Initial Names – Back in high school, I wrote something about how guys with initial names had weird facial hair. This isn’t so much the case now, but I’m still leery of any adult male who is incapable of answering to more than 2 letters.

Seth – A lot like Tim, only I don’t have proof.

Richard – Back in grade school, there were these twin boys. One of them had a kissing problem. He also had a peeing in his pants problem. Nice boy, but sexual harassment and incontinence are kind of unattractive.

Ricky – Form of Richard. Makes me think of guidos, Indian call center reps who adopt phony American names, and some douchebag from high school.

Mitch – I went to grade school with a guy named Mitch. My mother called him “The Flea” (not to his face) and still feels creeped out when you mention his name. Also rhymes with “itch.” I don’t think this is a coincidence.

Greg/Craig – Sounds like barfing.

Shane – So, are you supposed to be a cowboy or something? Did your parents want you to be a cowboy? No? They were just stoned when they named you? Also possibly at your conception? Okay. Makes sense.

Curt – More masculine than a Tim, but I also hated this name before I ever dated one. It makes me think of “curd” which makes me think of “expired dairy products” which makes me think of “yeast infection.” Sorry.

Burt – I don’t care that superfox John Krasinski played a Burt in Away We Go, this name sounds like someone who sits around popping his zits all day long.

Travis – There was either a Travis or a Caleb in my kindergarten class. I’m not sure which, but I don’t like either name. Both were kind of fat and smelled like meat (I was not the carnivore I am today). Because of this, I have a lasting impression of Travises that makes me think of chubby rich guys with oily lips and bizarre sexual perversions.

Caleb – See above.

Carl – Not even a relation to the Hot Carl is needed for me to hate this name. Go out and git me another greasy bucket o’ fried chicken, Carl. That’s what yer good fer.

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About erineph

I'm Erin. I have tattoos and more than one cat. I am an office drone, a music writer, and an erstwhile bartender. I am a cook in the bedroom and a whore in the kitchen. Things I enjoy include but are not limited to zombies, burritos, Cthulhu, Kurt Vonnegut, Keith Richards, accordions, perfumery, and wearing fat pants in the privacy of my own home.